Pages

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

"Blessed
are You, God, the One who spreads peace over us, over all His people of Israel
and over Jerusalem." (Arvit, Erev
Shabbat - Friday Evening Liturgy)

Tziporah:

While
Jews recite a blessing for peace in every evening service, this line is
specific to the Friday prayers. I love how we welcome the Sabbath by wishing
each other "Shabbat shalom,"
a peaceful Sabbath, and praying for God to shelter us in a peaceful embrace.
For me, the phrase "the One who spreads peace" evokes an image of God
covering the world with a blanket of peace just as a parent gently tucks a
child into bed at night. At the same time, the ancient, three-fold blessing of
"us, Israel, and Jerusalem" gives me pause. For the Jew who composed
these words—probably in
the wake of the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem—this prayer
was intended to apply solely to Jews. However, after engaging in interfaith
conversations and study of our sacred texts with you, I have come to a new
interpretation of this prayer: I believe each phrase builds from the personal
to the universal. First, I pray for me, my family and friends; then for my
synagogue community and Jews everywhere; and, finally, for Jerusalem, the
spiritual center for all of us who answer Abraham.

Grace:

How
very special your prayer, Tziporah! I am moved by blessings for peace in
all our faith traditions, yet also troubled by the absence of peace in the
actual lives we live. We proclaim “peace,” but we go to war with our
neighbor, whether across the street or across the world. I am troubled that
we—righteous men and women of every faith, even men and women who share a
faith—can so easily foment battles with one another, whether over land or a
political ideology or a religious doctrine or practice. The words of the song
“Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me” haunt me as I ask
myself, “With whom do I need to make peace today, and how do I do so?”
Peace-making is rarely sweet and easy; it is very hard work! It occurs to me
that, even with dedication and heightened awareness, I cannot be a bringer of
peace unless I myself am profoundly rooted in the divine—where “self” is lost
because consumed. Paradoxically, I believe that, in losing self, we find the
self created in God’s own image, the self that does not need to be right,
but only to be. To be willing to lose one’s self in this way is
terrifying, but I am convinced that only in so doing can we ever know fully
“that peace that passes understanding.”

Yasmina:

Tziporah,
I join my voice with yours and turn to As-Salaam,
the One Who is the Source of Peace.Like you, I wish for a peace that starts from the city that symbolizes
the convergent point of God’s universal message. As you know, the Islamic social greeting is “Peace
be upon you.” You may also be aware that, in each of the five daily prayers,
Muslims send prayers of peace to all the righteous servants of God. I also join Grace in inviting myself and
others to introspection of our most-inner selves: How can we learn to see past
our apparent external differences? “Indeed,
God will not change the condition of a people until they change what is within
themselves.” (al-Ra’d 13:11) This
invitation to start the process of change and make the “self” better is what
will alter the perceptions we have of each other. Islam literally means to find inner peace by
submitting to the will and commands of God. I am thankful I have been able to
celebrate Islam with you both, and I pray that by sharing our conversations we
can inspire others to choose a similar path.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

“I
tell you the truth; anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a
little child will never enter it.”

(The Gospel of Mark 10:15)

Grace:

The phrase “Kingdom of God”
reverberates through Christian scriptures in the teachings of Jesus. Some Christians
understand God’s kingdom to refer strictly to a heavenly realm beyond this
earthly life; others understand it to refer also to an ideal state of being on this
earth, in which human beings find union with God and one another. In reading this text, I am struck especially
by the simplicity of the verb receive. I recently heard someone of
another faith tradition say that “One who cannot see God in all, cannot see God
at all.” I suspect this is exactly what Jesus wanted his listeners to
understand when he spoke of the need to be “born again” in order to receive the
kingdom of God. (John 3:3) How do your sacred
scriptures invite you to see God and to receive God’s kingdom?

Yasmina:

In Islam the term “seeing
God in others” is not used. Instead, Muslims recognize a person’s piety by how
much their actions reflect their respect for God’s commands. This stems from
the view that belief in God must be coupled with righteous deeds: “O mankind!
We created you from a single [pair] of a male and a female, and made you into
nations and tribes, that ye may know each other [not that ye may despise each
other]. Verily the most honored of you in the sight of God is [he who is] the
most righteous of you.” (al-Hujurat
49:13) As a Muslim, I view myself as a minute being in God’s kingdom, which
encompasses the heavens, the earth and all that lies between them. I am
reminded to always act with humility because achieving righteousness is a
lifelong journey; only God can judge and invite whom He wills, with His grace
and mercy, into the final abode of peace.

Tziporah:

To answer your question, Grace, I turn not to the
“sacred scriptures,” but to the early rabbinic literature and the writings of
Maimonides (1135-1204). Many of Jesus’
parables about the kingdom of God have parallels in Jewish texts, which use
this exact phrase, as well as the phrase olam
ha-ba, “the world to come,” to refer to the messianic era. The rabbis of
the Talmud suggest that all righteous people, including non-Jews who follow the
Noachide Laws,[1]
will inherit a portion in the world to come. In Maimonides’ lifetime, there was
much controversy about whether olam ha-ba
referred to an actual place in the physical realm. In his treatise on the tenth chapter of Mishnah Sanhedrin, Maimonides describes the world to come as follows: “The
Garden of Eden is a fertile place containing the choicest of the earth’s
resources, numerous rivers, and fruit-bearing trees. God will disclose it to
man some day. He will teach man the way to it, and men will be happy there.”[2]Jews are urged to be righteous and fulfill the
commandments, not only to receive our portion in the world to come but also to
live well in this world.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

“Shout praise to God,
all the earth. Serve God with joy; come before Him with singing….Enter His
gates with thanksgiving, His courtyards with praise.”

(Psalms 100:1-2, 4)

Tziporah:

I have been reading this
psalm regularly because one of my resolutions for the New Year was to express my
gratitude daily. I even set my phone’s
alarm to alert me—with the soothing strains of the harp—to draw my mind
away from the tasks before me and toward God.
Although I have been pretty successful at establishing prayerful
moments, I still lack the motivation to attend synagogue services. I love the idea
of entering God’s gates with song, but find myself craving solitude and
silence. For Jews, the ideal is to
worship God together with at least 9 other Jews. And Jews pray loudly—with
plenty of communal singing—from a prayer book that contains many words. Praying alone is permissible, but even then
the ideal is to say the words aloud, if only in a whisper. As a result, the opportunity for silence in synagogue is scarce. Recently, I reluctantly admitted to Yasmina
that I suffer from spiritual envy: her mosque is such a peaceful environment
and so conducive to prayer. At the same time, I long to hear the familiar
melodies; to sing boldly and joyously in God’s courtyard. My soul yearns to
shout praise to God but, for the moment, my mouth won’t cooperate.

Grace:

Tziporah, I love your New
Year’s resolution, especially your "call to prayer" with the harp! During times of Christian celebration, as in
the recent season of Christmas, I am eager to sing, and to do so boldly and
joyously in communal worship. In times
of sorrow or penance, however, I may enter God’s courtyard with thanksgiving but
without song. For example, during the
penitential season of Lent we deliberately omit the singing of “Alleluias.” But
I, too, feel the craving for deeper solitude and peace, apart from community. In those times, I love taking private retreat,
usually in total silence, for the renewal of my spirit. Silence often opens my heart to the many ways
I can serve God with joy and allows me to enter God’s gates—whether in a house
of worship or elsewhere—with singing and praise from the soul, even as my voice
is silent!

Yasmina:

I regularly listen to my
favorite Quran reciter and love the opportunity to feel the resonance of the
words; the meaning, the sounds, the rhythm and the melody. My appreciation of each recitation is a little different, depending on where I am
physically, emotionally and spiritually. Like both of you, I enjoy solitary
prayer time, as well as prayer in community. Some communal prayers are said aloud
by the prayer leader, while others are offered in complete silence. For this
reason, I get a taste of different prayerful moments every day, as the echo of the
sounds of the Quranic recitations, the calls to prayer, and the silent praise
of worshipers is preserved in time and space. As a Muslim, I believe that the
sense of peace at the mosque that you alluded to, Tziporah, is a result of these
daily occurrences, which have no ultimate goal other than to grant those
taking part in them entry into the gates of the All Merciful.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Corey-Jan’s “Peace on a Corner” moves me deeply.
Legend has it that, when Nazi soldiers moved into Denmark to isolate and
remove the Jews living there, King Christian—along with members of
his court—had a yellow star stitched onto his sleeve before riding in an open
carriage through the streets of Copenhagen. First a dozen, then hundreds and
thousands of Christians joined in this powerful act of resistance. I often
wonder how history might have been rewritten if all of my Christian forebears
in Europe had done the same. I wonder, too, how different our world might
be right now if American Christians and Jews had, en masse, sung “Salaam/Shalom” alongside our Muslim brothers and
sisters in the wake of 9/11. For Christians, Christmas is about the birth and
continual rebirth of God incarnate, calling us to a radically new way of being
and a peace that surpasses all understanding. From that center we can act in godly
ways. As another song puts it, “Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin
with me.”

Yasmina:

How
desolate it is to think of a world where understanding is lost, and how
uplifting it is to see the beauty of compassion light up a whole community in a
festival of unity. With too many incidents of bigotry, prejudice, hatred and
ignorance being committed against minorities, including Muslims, I still do not
wish to dwell on these issues, but rather on their remedies. Like Corey-Jan, I
reflect upon the present energy around me and the meanings of the holidays,
although as a Muslim I am not celebrating them. In the spirit of the holiday
season, I wish that we would all replenish our hearts with the wonder of God’s
miracles, His Mercy and His Compassion. One of the beautiful names of God
mentioned in the Quran is as-Salaam,
which means the source of safety, peace and perfection. May every human
discover the peace in their hearts, and may that peace spread to all
corners of the world.

Tziporah:

I
asked Corey-Jan to share her song and allow us to respond to it because I
had heard her perform it in a variety of settings, and each time it really
affected me. I grew up singing traditional Hanukkah songs in Hebrew and Yiddish,
and performed the classic "I Have a Little Dreidel" numerous
times in Religious School. I also sang Christmas songs in my public school's
choir, never once wondering why they were the only holiday songs on the radio. I
remain a fan of Christmas music and attend concerts at local churches every
year. But this year I find myself humming "Peace on a Corner" as I prepare
for Hanukkah; it is stuck in my head alongside "Deck the Halls" and
"Jingle Bells." Both the lyrics and the melody serve to boost my
holiday spirit, reminding me that celebrating with friends is what increases
the light and warmth on long winter nights. I pray that we are all enlightened
by the music of the season, and that our spirits are raised as a new year of
peace approaches.

Monday, December 12, 2011

I was initially inspired
to write “Peace on a Corner” because, listening to the radio, I heard about a
zillion Christmas songs and very few songs about the holiday my family
celebrates. And the one song that gets played the most is funny and
entertaining—but it doesn’t shed any light on the meaning of the holiday. I was also inspired by the story of what happened in
Billings, Montana in 1993, when a brick sailed through a Jewish family’s window
because the family displayed a Hanukkah menorah
(lamp) in their window. In response, several local churches invited each child
in their congregation to make a paper menorah; these soon appeared in the windows of hundreds of Christian homes. A few days later,
the local newspaper published a full-page drawing of a menorah, along with a
general invitation for people to display it. By the end of the week, there were
an estimated six thousand homes and businesses decorated for Hanukkah. The
message was clear: Hate would not be tolerated.

The idea that hate can
be—really, must be—combated by connection and understanding is so important.
And the idea that everyone has something different to share —even within the same
religion—is very near and dear to me. Particularly at this time of year, my
family reaches out to share our holidays with people of other
religions, and we seek opportunities to share in their holiday celebrations, as well.
That way, the entire month of December is filled with a variety of traditions
and celebrations, not merely with holidays which are narrowly defined as “ours” or
“theirs.”

* * * * * * *

Corey-Jan is an
award-winning playwright, poet and songwriter. Her work has been published and
produced in a wide range of venues, and her unique book Diaspora Journey: A Passover Haggadah Drama has been performed as a Passover Seder in
synagogues, churches and homes for more than a decade.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Each week, we strive to
respond—as our name “She Answers Abraham” suggests—to the sacred texts that we
share. Last week, however, I was
inspired to write a more personal reflection about the issue of proselytizing. Yasmina's explanation of da'wa as an expression of humility convinced me that we three needed time to grapple with the texts and their contexts. Grace wisely counseled me to wait, to hold my initial thoughts for this
week. I am grateful to my friends for encouraging me to share both "answers" with you. Below is my first reply to Grace's post about proclaiming
our faith.

I welcome readers of all
faiths to share their thoughts and experiences.

B'virkat shalom (with blessings of peace),

Tziporah

* * * * * * *

I once experienced being
“witnessed to” by a proselytizing Christian, but only after my move to the
southeast as an adult, when I was able to appreciate the zeal of a sincere
missionary without feeling demeaned. Nor have I ever felt personally persecuted
by a Christian missionary simply because he believed himself to be right and
righteous. However, my equanimity in these situations was shattered when the
teacher of my eight-year old daughter called to let me know that another
girl—the daughter of Evangelical Christians—had offered to show her Jesus’
glory over lunch. In that moment, I
realized that I had failed to meet my obligations as a Jewish mother: I had not
adequately taught my children what Jews do and do not believe about Jesus and
personal salvation. Once I recovered
from my guilty feelings, I was truly grateful that I had been forced to clarify
my beliefs because another person had proclaimed her faith.

* * * * * * *

Tziporah writes weekly for the She Answers Abraham
blog and prays daily for peace among all people. She seeks to
raise her children to be both compassionate and righteous.